The Hedge Maze Up In Flames
by SkyKissed
Summary: In which Jareth takes wing, Goblins are liberated, songs are sung, many coups are led and foot-sucking fun is to be had be all! It's not a crackfic. I'm just not entirely sane.
1. Chapter 1

Sky: Yup. I'm obsessed with something new.

Jareth: Of course. It_ had_ to be us. Couldn't have been some other sap, could it?

Sky: Nope! Time to torment you, your hottness!

Sarah: Back off, girl. He's mine. Also, Sky does not own me, Jareth, or anyone. Except for that goblin that eats its own foot.

* * *

**Chapter 1: In Which Jareth Is Not Amused. And There Is Foot Sucking Fun To Be Had By All.**

"You. There. Mangy one."

_Slurp. _

"Yes, _you_, my drool mongering friend."

_Chomp._

"Nick…Nim…_NIT_! Yes, you! "

There was the sound of one very expensive boot being tapped methodically against an equally expensive, albeit impressively grime coated, piece of stonework right beside him.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?"

It was at this point that the little goblin had the decency to look up long enough from gnawing its own foot to favor its King with an embarrassed look, drool half lapping over the grubby appendage, eyes wide as though caught in a far more compromising act (such as …chewing on… a different goblins… foot), a very tall, very put out looking Goblin King looming over him with ominous written all over his overly sharp features.

Nit did not know the definition of the word ominous. He got the general feeling that it was going to be unpleasant, and likely had something to do with being punted like a chicken. Or chucked head first into the Bog.

"Well?" King was speaking again. Goblin should reply. Something _witty_…

_Silence. _

_More silence._

Jareth's eyes narrowed substantially.

_Even more silence. _

Nit simply stared, drool now beginning to lap down his calf and pool around his scrawny legs. From around his foot he tried to manage a pleading grin. Evidently the sentiment got lost in translation, for Jareth, rightly establishing the creature in front of him was far to brain dead to merit even a two word response, promptly introduced a newly shined and magically scruff free boot into his subjects unguarded posterior.

Nit landed, foot still in mouth. A hiss of breath. Arms being thrown in the air. Then nothing. Said King shook his head and, fleeing a mental breakdown, promptly leapt out the nearest window. A snowy white owl was seen winging away seconds after.

After a conspiratory look from side to side, Nit went blithely back to gumming his unfortunate limb.

* * *

King was still gone. Had been _HOURS_.

Nit got the feeling this was a bad thing. Last time King had gone away, chickens had led a (remarkably successful…) coup against the castle and their overlords. Had taken King AGES to clear all the feathers from throne and liberate goblin subjects. Time before that, goblins had been crushed by renegade rocks, also leading coup against castle.

The little goblin was thus able to garner two things from his reminiscing. One, bad things happened when Goblin King left. Two, goblins had to be liberated lots and should look into keeping pets that could not potentially overthrow their masters….

He made a mental note to bring this up at the next Chicken Race.

______

When the King STILL had not returned, Nit finally managed to pry his foot out of his mouth and muster some genuine feeling of panic. Because frankly, that random chicken who wandered the throne room had given him a weird look, and dinner had not been served, and he was fairly certain one of the goblins had plans to set the hedge maze of fire in order to smoke Goblin King out.

Now, Nit was not a wise goblin. He chewed on his foot more then he used it to walk and, like most goblins, was mostly illiterate and could perform math about as well as a blind emu. Jareth, early on his career, back when he had still been full of hope and life and faith in humanity, and thus, obviously hadn't encounter his new minions yet (who promptly removed afore mentioned hope from his lovely Fae self), had once made the fateful mistake to ask him exactly what he believed "two plus two was." He'd said three...

Because, as a goblin, he's stated, he had been adding chickens in his head. And one of the unfortunate birds had been happened upon by a particularly hungry goblin in his mind maze. Missing that last bird, the answer was obviously three.

Oddly enough, King had decided to vacate the castle at that time as well…

* * *

In the Above Ground kingdom, Sarah Williams was just finishing getting ready for bed. Life was good. It had been five years since her little run in with His Tightness, her life had been gloriously goblin free, no one had thrown a snake in her face in a very long time and, she noted with some semblance of relief, peach season was over.

Yes. Life was _very_ good.

It was at this time a rather sizable bird chose to crash into her equally locked window.

"HOLY HELL!" Said Sarah with gusto.

"Hoot," said the bird, with noticeably less enthusiasm.

_Irony_. Sarah was not a fan. Turning, she snatched up a stray pillow, brandishing the fluffy sleeping implement with all the skill of a samurai warrior. The white ball of fluff lying in a rather less then regal heap on her floor favored her with what appeared to be the owl version of a glare. She glared right on back, still clutching her weapon, ready to attack at a moment's notice. The owl did not looked thrilled.

When he did not move from it position, she relaxed her guard a bit, taking a few steps forward. The bird hopped towards her a bit as well, favoring its right leg subtly. The Kings not so kingly entrance had evidently had a few ramifications.

Sarah extended her pillow, gently prodding the bird with its far edge. She received another glare, "You're him? Aren't you?"

"Hoot." It said indignantly.

"Did you hurt your leg?"She was favored with a withering look. "Well," she huffed, crossing her arms stoically across her chest, "Serves you right. Flying in, busting up my window and giving me a heart attack." Again, the owl sitting pitifully on her floor looked less then sympathetic. But alas, for poor, sweet, Sarah, that noble heart of hers was all aflutter in her chest, stirred by the sight of the wounded animal before her. Even if said animal was none other than her age old enemy in a more travel sized package. Against her better judgment, and with an over -exaggerated sigh, she plucked the adorable creature from the ground, setting it on her bed, where the hard floor was less likely to irritate the wound.

"Hoot," the owl responded smugly, puffing its feathered chest out with pride. In a flash of light and overtly much glitter, the owl disappeared and the Fae King appeared before her, disheveled from his flight but still disgustingly resplendent in his kingly attire. He smiled winningly at her through a curtain of wild white-blond hair. "Good evening, Sarah. You're looking particularly lovely this fine night."

She blinked. "Shouldn't you have done that before you hit my window? You know...poofed."

"How very droll, Sarah pet. Next thing I know you'll be expecting me to _knock_ the next time I deign to visit you," Jareth plucked an errant shard of glass out of his hair, easily brushing the remaining pieces off his cloak. And on to her comforter. If he noticed her glare he made no outward sign of it. Arrogant ass.

"Of course, because coming crashing back into my life is _so_ much better when it's interpreted in a more literal sense."

Another smile, tinged with smug amusement purchased at the cost of her pleasure, "I knew it would appeal to your dramatic nature, precious thing; how it warms my heart to know that my wounds were not in vain." As if to make his point, he raised his damaged leg for her to inspect. Above his knee there was a very noticeable tear in those overly tight breaches of his, a lovely little crimson gash rising to fill the vacant space.

She rolled her eyes, "Mmm. Your sacrifice is indeed touching. I think my heart just skipped a beat."

"I do tend to have that effect on people."

"Oh god…"

"Goblin King, dear heart. God is a bit much, even for one such as myself."

Sarah gave him one look. And then sank heavily down on her mattress.

It was going to be a _long_ night.

* * *

Sky: Alright...that one was...impossibly short. And probably awful. But hey, first chapter. I can promise the next ones will be better.

Jareth: I get the distinct feeling you're lying...

Sky: You, shoosh! Next chapter, we find out exactly why the Goblin King has chosen to take wing. And the Goblins...well...we're just hoping they don't set things on fire, alright? So review. Because it keeps Jareth's kingdom from going up in flames.


	2. Chapter 2: Such Foul, Fowl, Things

Sky: Aw, you guys reviewed! Thank you!

Jareth: Yes, yes, let's get on with this, shall we, hmm? Sky does not own either Sarah or myself, something I find myself infinitely grateful for. That odd creature that gnaws its own foot however, that most certainly IS hers.

Sky: ONWARDS!

_________________________

**Chapter 2: In Which Jareth is _Slightly_ More Amused and Goblins Should Not Be Trusted With Fire. Ever.**

Sarah Wiliam's approached the situation at hand as one might approach a small, terrified woodland creature that had found its way inside ones bedroom, the tiny thing huddled pathetically in a particularly dank corner, looking genuinely pathetic and most certainly contrite for its invasion of privacy.

Granted, this would only apply if said woodland creature was a clever metaphor for a very tall and distinctly _not_ woodland creature like Goblin King, and by huddled pathetically she meant sprawled across her bed, and by genuinely pathetic she actually meant unrepentantly arrogant. And by contrite for an invasion of privacy she meant…not contrite for….just not contrite.

But of course, those minor details had no place in our heroine's limited range of awareness. Such observation of facts and use of pertinent information would only cramp her style. It also, she noted with some small tinge of bitter irony, seemed somewhat ineffective to concern oneself with facts when a mythical being was lounging contentedly on your furniture, cheerfully pointing out just how abhorrent her sense of style was and that he simply couldn't _believe_ she would choose that color of paint to go with that…

Sarah shook her head, quickly dislodging the manic thought before it could take root and drive her truly insane. Her momentary reverie was only broken however, when the drone of his majesties voice ceased completely, replaced with an uncomfortable silence that had her squirming in a rather undignified fashion. She made to open her mouth, but found, with some dismay, that the disobedient thing had no desire to make a fool of _ITSELF_ and thus would be boycotting her control over it until a later time. It was not sorry for the inconvenience.

Jareth rolled onto his side, facing her with one winged brow raised, curious, "I don't believe I have ever seen you at a loss for words, Sarah pet. It is…unnerving."

She only frowned, glaring up at the ceiling, "My mouth is boycotting me."

She didn't _see_ the eye-roll as much as she _felt_ it. Like everything else about the man, what was a very simple motion was turned into an elaborate art, a languid act, if you will. One that succeeded only in further soiling her unfortunate comforter in the ever present glitter; the material wailed in distress. The glitter snickered, obviously pleased to be inciting fear for once rather than derisive giggles. "You do realize, of course, that you just spoke."

"It wasn't very clear on the rules."

"Which would be?"

"You'd have to ask my mouth as it is not currently conversing with my brain."

He smiled, "An excellent suggestion." And in a smooth motion he moved closer to her, mismatched eyes fixed pointedly upon her lips. She supposed the action was supposed to come across as devastatingly charming. For Sarah however, it translated somewhere within the realms of "creepy." Had her mouth been doing its job she might have told him such. Instead it opted towards hanging open, doing a rather elaborate imitation of a suffocating gold fish. Jareth smirked, brushing a thumb across her lower lip, the butter soft leather a fleeting, feather light touch across the skin, before continuing, "Sarah's lips, your mistress would like to know the terms of your sudden, and I must say, most gratifying, rebellion."

"Thanks, Goblin King, you're real helpful."

"Sarah, I am attempting to hold a civilized conversation with your lovely lips…"

"You're a creep. Hey! They let me say that! The boycott must be over."

He frowned, "I believe I liked you better silent…"

"Bite me," before he could make a move to act on this (and from the devious look in his eyes and the way he leaned forward in what could be construed as a menacing fashion, she had the inkling feeling that he would have no qualms acting on her suggestion) she quickly carried on, "All games aside, why are you here? Why, now? It's been ten years couldn't you have just…moved on?"

"And be denied this riveting conversation? Not likely, precious thing."

"Hey, I didn't _ask_ you to poof in here in all your tight panted, glitter spewing glory…"

He frowned at the comment, obviously aghast that she would suspect his glitter of being anything other than simply wonderful and the perfect complement to his already fabulous attire. So concerned was he with this that he missed her obvious allusion to his trousers. "Sarah," said he, tired, "You are always so quick to jump to the wrong conclusion. I was being perfectly serious about this conversation. It's the first I've had in five years that hasn't involved the words "chickens," "bog," or "lemon." He paused on the last one, "Perhaps you can enlighten me as to the latter. Lemons are a citrus fruit are they not?"

She nodded, "Yeah, why?"

"No reason. I am simply trying to understand why so many young women purpose we share one. Do all your kind share this infatuation with highly acidic fruits?"

Had she not been choking on laughter she might have answered.

________________________

In ages long since passed, the Labyrinth had been something of a free republic. Its inhabitants had wandered quite blithely along without any authoritative figure to instruct them and had been genuinely pleased with their lot in life.

Every other realm in the mortal, and occasionally immortal, realm was distinctly _not_. It only take ones goblin stealing random infants, and one fiery attempting to "de-head" one of the lesser members of the Greek pantheon for the Higher Powers of the Universe to move in and put all the de-heading fun to a stop.

Enter Jareth.

For thousands of years now the Labyrinth had had a king. And, while it was most distressing to the inhabitants that they could no longer terrorize lesser beings so openly, they soon learned that it was much preferable to their previous state. They, if nothing else, appreciated their king. They looked up to him. He was to make all their decisions.

Unfortunately, over the centuries, the ability to actually MAKE a decision without consulting their king had been purged from their various gene pools. Resulting in the current situation.

Namely, rampant anarchy.

The goblins were currently holed up in one of the castles more defensible chambers, spears leveled at the door as though they expected some great, foul force to burst through the wood at any moment. They were correct of course, if one makes some exceptions and is certain to change "foul" to "fowl."

Said fowl, sensing weakness and a break in the chain of command, had chosen to lead a second rebellion against their masters and liberate their brethren from the castle. Currently, the goblins were putting up very little resistance and were concerning themselves more with screaming in an overly dramatic fashion then they with actually defending themselves.

Dramatic creatures, goblins; excellent actors.

Nit glanced between the goblins bracing the door (doing a rather poor job of it at that…) and the creatures occupying themselves with the torch they had found. A feeling of horror made its way to his addled brain, coupled with the desire to mimic his less fortunate brethren and run screaming. A less petulant thought pointed out that the most advisable thing to do would be to fetch the king.

The thought was quickly trampled by a horde of angry mental protesters.

One of the goblins squealed with delight as the torch was consumed with flame. He held it aloft, the mark of a true champion, grin cresting his ugly face.

Much later, after various fires had been put out, it occurred them that lighting a fire in the Goblin King's personal library may not have been their greatest collective decision.

______________________________

"So let me get this straight," Sarah was now sitting cross legged on the bed, directly across from the Goblin King, tapping her chin as she ran through exactly what he was telling her, "You came here, to me," she pointed at herself, "Because _you _couldn't handle your duties and wanted a cheap and easy way out."

"I resent what you are implying, but the jist of that is correct, yes."

She shook her head, chuckling a little, "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"Says the woman who wished away her younger brother to a mythical King."

"Touché."

There was silence for a moment, Jareth simply staring at her, something of a contented smile place across the planes of his overly sharp features, softening them slightly. It pained her to admit it but he truly was a beautiful creature. And then, almost out of the blue, he threw his head back and laughed, a clean, whole hearted sound. None of his cynicism, no cruelty. She inclined her head to the side, "What is it?"

He shook his head, "Suddenly I am very pleased that I chose to come here tonight. Thank you, Sarah. For what it's worth coming from your old nemesis, thank you. You may have saved my sanity, precious thing."

The silence settled back in, the two old foes simply sitting together as one might sit with a childhood friend. It was a surprisingly comfortable arrangement, all things considered. Sarah felt her eyes growing heavy, weary after her day and after the shock of having an owl burst through her window and demand a conversation. A look at the Fae man across from her brought a smile to her face. His eyes too had slid shut, breathing coming in more regular intervals, face relaxing as the troubles of the day faded back into his subconscious.

She really should make him leave. But as she got more comfortable that thought was becoming more and more hazy. She could make him leave…in a few…minutes…

____

Unfortunately, at the same moment that our heroes were falling asleep, blissfully curled up on Sarah's unfortunate mattress (which was still bemoaning its fate. Melodramatic things, mattresses), the goblins were running screaming, emerging from the flaming pyre that had previously been the library, suddenly not so terrified of the chickens lurking just outside their fiery refuge.

The Labyrinth had descended into chaos.

Its king had been missing for a grand total of three hours, fifteen minutes and thirty nine seconds.

It left very little hope for the kingdom.

____

Jareth awoke with a start. There was a loud crunch as his head connected with something miserably unyielding. He held his forehead. From beside him someone else was also moaning most vigorously.

"God Goblin King, what the _hell_ was that for? My nose offend your glittery finery?"

Ah, _that _was what his head had come into contact with. From the way Sarah was frantically rubbing the area around her offended nose he could only assume he had awakened with more of a start then he had originally believed. With a frown he reached out a hand, touching the tip of a finger to the bridge of her nose. Her rubbing stopped abruptly. The young woman let out a pleased little squeak of appreciation. The Fae rubbed his head, suddenly exhausted.

Hunched over so, he looked so much older. Not so young, not so beautiful. Her brow creased with worry, and, presented with this vision, she overcame her initial caution. Damn that hero's heart of hers and its heroic ways! Sarah reached out a hand, allowing it to rest tentatively on his arm, "Jareth? What's wrong? What happened?"

He looked up at her with such sad, miserable eyes. It tore at her heart; she scooted towards him, "Jareth, you have to tell me what's wrong." A heavy sigh. More silence. His features hardened somewhat, sadness become irritation, annoyance, any other of the synonyms you may like to choose.

He finally met her eyes.

"The Goblins have set my castle on fire."

She frowned, pausing momentarily in her efforts to comfort him, thinking something through. On fire? Her mouth opened. Shut. They, lamely, "Jareth, your castles made of stone."

He hung his head. Sarah quickly returned to comforting her old nemesis.

_______

Sky: Still getting…the hang of...this…!

Jareth: Oh, really? I couldn't tell….

Sky: Listen bird brain…!

Sarah: *sighs* While those two fight it out, I would like to thank all those that reviewed this story. You are amazing, awesome people and, were Sky not currently initiating a brawl, she would tell you so. As for the plot. We're getting there.

Sky: Uh….review and I will make Sarah and Jareth make out!

Jareth: Pssh. They don't have to review to get THAT.

Sky: Sssh! Don't tell them! Till next chapter! Thanks for reading.


End file.
